- Darklamb and I had class and rehearsal for 3 hours last night
- the show is going to be off the chain
- it’s on February 27 at the Tribeca Performing Arts Center
- Pooja, our choreographer/teacher referred to me as the one with amazing dance hair. die.
And I was back in our apartment in Jersey City. Walked four flights up and put my key through the door. It opens left, the kitchen is to the right.
The living room is on the far left. Where is he? He’s sitting up on the couch with his triathletic posture, facing me - smiling. He puts the remote down the coffee table we inherited from his grandmother. The one with the crack down the center since he flipped it over in a rage over the summer.
He gets up. Walks over to me barefoot, with Christmas tree print flannel pajama bottoms and a fresh white tee. He always put on a clean white shirt when he got home from work.
I put my keys on the counter, bag on the kitchen table. He wraps his arms that are still tan from the summer. They are muscley with decent vein action and enough hair for a Middle Eastern girl to feel feminine around.
He’s warm. My face is cold. His smell is the scent I could get lost in like silk curtains. He kisses my cheeks and my forehead. The kiss on my mouth still makes me melt. Seven years and I still can’t help smiling mid-smooch.
I am safe. I am warm welcome and loved.
